13/31 (Kinda On Hold)

XXIX: Man That You Fear

I toss over in my sleep, awakening from my deep slumber. The room is darkened, and quiet. Chris' side of the bed is empty, and as I blink the sleep away from my eyes, I see a tall dark figure standing before me.

"Chris?" I question sleepily.

The air seems to fall heavy with silence, as he doesn't respond, making my heart skip a beat. He moves, lifting his right arm, and from the sliver of light emanating from the window, it reflects off of the sharp blade in his hand.

I feel a scream building from deep within my throat, but nothing comes. I am paralyzed and terrified. I feel my body actively attempting to move, but to no avail. I feel the blade digging into the flesh of my stomach, the deadly look in Chris' blood red eyes filling my vision.

The useless adrenaline and panic floods my veins, fighting for me to do something...anything to protect myself and the babies. The sharp pain of the knife dragging through my stomach melds with my own disbelief and shock of the situation, leaving me with a feeling of helplessness, but also a strange high.

The pain stops for a moment before his hand drops the knife and the cries of a child fill the night air. I am met with the sight of our baby boy being held in the bloody arms of his father. A tear travels down my cheek, partially out of happiness, but mostly out of fear.

Chris' eyes, however dead they may appear, have a glint of joy within them. But just as soon as he cuts the umbilical cord, the last physical tie between my son and myself, he drives the knife into my stomach again. The pain is sharp and quick, and within moments, our daughter's cries greet me.

He stares down at the babies, both having our dark hair, and pale skin. What I wouldn't give to be able to hold my children and see their faces. Chris begins to walk away from the bed, holding our son in his arms.

He turns his back to me, leaving me to watch as he cradles the baby boy. I turn my gaze to our daughter laying next to me, wrapped in the dark and bloodied sheets of the bed. She moves around, her crying quickly subsiding, and turning into a gentle cooing.

I am so close to her, almost to touch her, but I still can't move. I turn my gaze back to Chris, the dead silence of the room smacking me in the face. He is glaring at me, the pure anger the only thing in his eyes.

The seconds tick by, and I realize that our son is no longer moving. It send a knife through my heart. Less than a few minutes after he entered this world, he is gone. I would give my everything, my life, my soul, my heart, to have him in this world, even if I wasn't.

Chris moves closer, gently laying our son down on the bed, next to his sister. He reaches over me, grabbing the pillow beside me. I stare fearfully up at him, pleading with him not to do what I fear he's about to do.

The pillow is pressed down over my face moments later, and I can't breath. The seconds drag by, my lungs screaming for release, but my brain knowing it's not coming.

I feel the darkness begin to consume me, and lungs give up.

A scream fills the air, awakening me. The shrill, bloodcurdling sound shaking em to the core. My heart pounds, my chest heaving, and my hands shaking. Only then do I realize that I am the one screaming.

I desperately gulped in air, as though this breath will be my last. I can still feel the blade digging into my flesh, but as a look down to my lap and stomach, there is no blood, just my still-pregnant belly. It was all a dream.

Chris rolls over, looking at me with one eye as his hand rubs the other. "What the hell? Are you okay? Why are you breathing so hard?"

I shake my head dismissively, "it was simply a dream, go back to sleep. I didn't mean to awaken you."